Aurora Borealis
by redexted
Summary: A blue tale, in more ways than one. Rated for suicidal references.


(Edited slightly for fluency and decency.)

This may be a bit vague because no names are ever mentioned, but I hope everything can be deciphered somehow.

Disclaimer: All related characters and elements are (c) Craig McCracken.

**Aurora Borealis**

* * *

Another day.

– – –

I look into the mirror. There is no reflection. I brush my hair. I tie it into two low ponytails. I hear laughter downstairs. No one comes up to greet me. I pick up my bag and start walking down the steps. My shoes are silent.

I sit down. They don't look at me. Not even him. There are two pieces of toast on the plate on the table. She is on my left. She has prepared a salad for herself. She is two seats away. She has cream soup in her bowl. My plate is empty. He just talks to my sisters. They laugh. I don't.

I reach out for the toast, but she grabs it first. She sneers at me. She looks hard at me with her green eyes. I say nothing. I watch as she rips the bread into half and dips it into her soup. I examine my plate. It is glossy. There is nothing but air on it. No crumbs. Nothing.

He talks about relationships. She fiddles with her greens and starts to babble about her new crush. She snorts into her soup and says she doesn't bother about the opposite sex. For once I open my mouth to speak. But he cuts me off with his own words. I shrink back. The desire to talk is gone. No one is looking at me. No one is noticing me. I pick up my bag and make my way out of the door. It closes. They continue to talk. They don't know where I have gone. They don't care where I am going.

I don't exist.

– – –

I open my locker. People I don't know jeer at me. They call me ST. For Silent Treatment. I don't speak. They pull at my hair. They mess up my hair. They unzip my bag. My books fall out. Everyone around me laughs. For a second it hurt. Then no more. I feel nothing. I squat down to pick up my textbooks. No one helps me.

You appear. You stop to help. I don't know who you are. We reach for my blue notebook. Our hands touch. I withdraw. You look at me kindly. Your friends slap your back. They tell you to ignore me. They kick the other books remaining on the floor. I still stay silent. You tell them to knock it off.

I get up. I look at you. Your hair is blond. Like mine. There is something familiar about you. But I cannot recall. You squint at me. I look away. You ask me if I am all right. I shake my head. You ask if we have met somewhere before. I don't respond. I gather my things and walk away. I feel your eyes on my back. But I don't turn. I don't stop.

I wish I could tell you how beautiful your deep blue eyes are.

– – –

Today's lesson is graffiti art. The teacher gives each of us a huge piece of cardboard. She tells us to spray whatever we want on it. You enter the class. You explain that you are a transfer student here. She gives you another board. I look at you.

You don't notice me. I pick up a can of black paint and spray it as the background. I add a dash of black to your work. I apologise. You raise your head and widen your eyes at me. Then you smile. I focus on my work.

I add splashes of red paint. I spray a rhombus of silver. You ask me what it is. I don't answer. The teacher comes. She asks me what I am doing. I hesitate. I don't say it is a murder scene. I don't say the silver paint is the blade of a knife. I keep spraying. You seem disappointed. Still I say nothing. As always.

The bell goes. The boards are collected. Your work is right on top. I see the confusing but neat colours. Mine is put right at the back. The teacher gives me a strange look. I purse my lips. You touch my arm and try to talk. I run away.

– – –

Friday evening.

I finish my project in the library. The lights are already on. No one looks at me. No one smiles at me. No one remembers my past. No one cherishes me. I am a disappearing legend. An invisible shadow. My sisters are in all the glory. I am not the youngest. I am not the eldest. I am the spare wheel trapped in the middle.

I wish someone would know how I feel. But there is nobody. The world is cold.

You lean against the lamppost. You spot me. I try to hide in the shadows. You run to me and say you have been waiting for me. You admit you have been following me before I entered the library. I feel something deep inside.

You ask me for my name. I don't know yours either. You ask me to talk. You insist we have met before somewhere. I shake my head. I want to cry. But you don't stop. You pull me along. I hear something about fate and the night sky. I cannot hear properly. You mention about showing me something beautiful.

You lead me to a dark forested area with a clearing in front. There is no one around but us. Crickets are singing. The sky is turning dark blue. I remember your eyes. But I dare not look into them.

You stand behind me. Your palms slide onto the back of my hands. Your fingers slip between mine. I feel your presence. You tell me that you have learnt a new skill. I don't know what to do. I am afraid you would do something to me.

But you don't.

I trust you.

You tell me to close my eyes and let myself drift away. I try. I fail. The tears are coming out. Your voice is gentle. You press your face close to my ear. I concentrate. My soul has gone.

Then something happens. There is a strong force rising inside me. I sense something changing beyond my eyelids. I open my eyes. I see bright hanging curtains of colours in the sky. They flicker into flames. They form haloes of light. They split into arcs. They ripple and wave in the air. I look on in awe.

You smile at my reaction. And explain these are called the Northern Lights. The aurora borealis. You say the lights are glowing more brightly tonight. You say it is because I am around. There is no relation between us.

But I speak.

"It's beautiful."

And I cry. I tell myself to stop. But the tears don't. I cover my face. I don't want you to see that I am crying. I don't. You don't laugh at me. You squat down with me. The grass tickles my feet. You put your arms around me. But I am not afraid. You say the aurora borealis is your gift for me. You say my words are my gift for you. I don't say anything. The Northern Lights keep shining in the heavens.

You say there is something in me that makes you feel. I realise the thing in my heart is warmth. You are the first person in these few years that have made me smile. You say I have a beautiful smile. I keep quiet. I blush slightly. You lean over. But I turn away. You draw away with a faint smile. The auroras shimmer and fade. I notice they had not shone blue. Only pink and green.

I pick up my bag. It is damp with dew. You offer to take me home. I wish to thank you. But I fail to speak. The wonder has disappeared. I hurry away in silence. Your sneakers crunch behind me.

I walk for a few minutes. By the time I reach my road you have already gone.

I wish I could tell you.

– – –

Monday morning.

You glance over at me from your seat. You draw a wavy line in the air. You mouth the two words. And you smile. It is our little secret. But I turn away.

It is not enough.

The teacher comes in as the last few of the students enter as well. I realise it is chemistry class. I don't remember the teacher's name. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything. Not anymore.

I feel trapped in a time machine. The words on my notes stare back at me. I don't know what they mean. I see circles, lines, plus signs, minus signs. I think they are notes for math.

The teacher calls me. People snicker. I say nothing and stand up. Your dark blue eyes are staring at me. He asks me what the symbol CO means. I don't think. People keep sniggering. Someone throws a paper ball. It hits my back. I say CO means company. Everyone erupts into laughter. They can't stop. I feel like crying again. But you are not beside me. You are laughing as well. There is nothing I can do. He is angry. His eyebrows arch downwards. I sit down.

He calls you. I hear your name for the first time. It sounds special. You stand up. Everyone hushes. You look at me again. I hide my face behind the curtain of hair. Someone has cut off my ponytailers. They have burned them with a lighter in the corridor. Right in front of me. He asks you what CO means. You answer carbon monoxide. He smiles proudly at you. There is scattered applause. Other people yawn. I don't do anything. I feel dumb.

He explains the dangers of carbon monoxide. Carbon monoxide poisoning causes headaches. Dizziness. Stomach upsets. Clumsiness. Drowsiness. Brain damage. Death. He explains why some people commit suicide this way. Because it is readily available. Because it causes no discomfort. And because it is quick. The most common sources of deaths by carbon monoxide are automobiles and furnaces. At high carbon monoxide concentrations death will occur within thirty minutes or less.

I listen for a few minutes. I look out of the window. The sky is light blue. No auroras. I remember your blue eyes. I turn my head and hope to be able to see them again. But you are listening intently.

I drift away. I fly to the North Pole. The aurora polaris displays its full majesty. I raise my hands to touch them. They glow more brightly. I whisper my thanks for your gift. I hear chiming bells in the distance. And I am sent crashing back to earth. It is time for break.

You walk over to me. I keep my things. You try to explain you were not laughing at me just now. But I don't listen. I don't trust you anymore. You are just not enough.

You take my wrist. You ask why I have to treat you like this. I say nothing. You wish to see more life in my eyes. You say I have beautiful blue eyes. I want to say the same thing to you.

But I don't trust you anymore.

I pull myself away. The growing emotions wilt inside. I feel weak. I have no energy left. Not like eleven years ago. Not when I was loved by everyone.

My sisters have taken everything. I am left in oblivion.

– – –

He has ordered pizza for dinner. They are around the dining table, eating. They started without me. He asks if I want any. I say no. I don't look for his reaction. He doesn't even react. His question is just a subtext. He asks for the sake of asking.

I wish I had a mother. A mother who would take care of me with all her heart.

I lock myself in my room. The light is off. I stand at the balcony. The houses are below. The stars are above. I remember your words. I focus. I imagine you beside me. The strength pushes itself up again. There is a magnetic storm. And your gift appears again. I smile. They look distant. But I can see them. I can control them. They are the gifts from Nature to you, from you to me.

My fingers move. The curtains change colour and shape. Now it is a hollow cylinder of light. I see a tint of blue. It is for me. I transform the Northern Lights. I wish you could see them. I imagine you away from me, in some place with your friends, laughing over senseless jokes. I am not in your mind. I am not in your heart.

I cry. The auroras vanish. I hope you are the one. I hope you really care. But it is not meant to be. Nothing is.

– – –

We get back our report cards. I see a red 50 beside the word 'English'. I don't feel happy. I don't feel upset. There is a 67 for Chemistry, and 71 for Art. You score 73 for English, 89 for Chemistry and 75 for Art. I don't show you my grades. You ask me what is wrong. You try to cheer me up. You say it hurts to see me like this. But I don't feel your hurt. I think it is just another subtext.

– – –

The woman is wearing a red jacket. Her shoes are black and low-heeled. She tells me to feel free to look around. I am to tell her should I want to rent a car. I run my hands along a black Mercedes. It feels cold. I walk around aimlessly. The last few autumn leaves fall onto the windshields. They are red, orange, yellow, brown and gold. I pick up a golden maple leaf. It shines in the late afternoon sun.

And I see it. She explains it is a Thunderbird. It is quite old. She says there is no catalytic converter installed. No one has rented it for some time, but it looks new. The blue finish is perfect. I rent it for the night.

– – –

The ground is covered in warm colours. I see a few couples walking among the oak trees in the distance. The Thunderbird is parked facing the cliff. The wind blows into the car.

The engine is cooling. I have remembered my notes well. A cold engine will always produce a higher concentration of carbon monoxide than a hot engine.

I get out of the car. The stars are crying. They tell me not to be stupid. They tell me there is someone out there who cares. I think of you. But your image dissolves. I say nothing. There are no tears. I feel more hollow than ever. But nothing has changed. Nothing matters anymore.

I imagine what it will be like when my soul leaves my body. Will I fly? Will I be sent down deep into the underworld? Will I be any different?

Will I be able to feel?

I don't want you to know where I am.

I run a rubber tube from the exhaust pipe and divert it to the inside of the car. I roll up the windows. I sit inside and lock the doors. I wait.

I think of my life. I think of the time before our ways of thinking changed. I think of the time when my sisters performed more outstandingly than I ever did. I think of him. At first he was a caring father. At first I was one of his beloved children. Now I am a burden to him.

I think of my sisters. She is younger than me. Yet she quarrels with me. She teases me. She bullies me. I always choose the silent treatment. But she, the eldest, stands up for me. She fights for me. At first I think she really cares. It turns out that she is sick of my cries. She resorts to peaceful solutions. All to make me shut up.

I think of all the faces I have seen in school. I remember how some girls I don't know pulled my hair in the washroom and cut it randomly. People had heard my cries. But they did not help. I remember my sister looking in from the door. She waited till half my hair was on the wet floor before she stepped in to stop them. I remember the smirk on her face.

It is getting hot. My mind starts to swirl. My stomach starts to churn. But I struggle on. I wait. I keep thinking. I think of how I came into this world, how well known I had been, how happy I had been.

That is the past.

Time has changed. Time has changed me. I don't know who I am now. I cannot think properly. I reach for the bottle of water at the back seat. But I cannot reach it. I fall back gasping. But I hold on. I do not let go. Not yet. It is still too early.

I gaze at the scenic lookout in front of me. My head swims. And I cry. I don't expect to end my life this way, but I cannot think of other less violent ways. And I have done my chemistry teacher proud.

I raise my hands. The Northern Lights appear in the sky almost instantly. I smile. It is your gift. I cherish it. I really do. It is my farewell gift. The concentration increases. I feel myself fading.

Suddenly you appear. You look appalled. You slam your hands against the glass. You yell. You cry. You beg. You call my name. You tell me to get out. But I don't hear your voice. You try to force open the door. You ball your hand into a fist and hesitate on whether you should smash the windows. You have lost your powers. Like me. I shake my head at you.

You look at me forlornly. You pound your fists against the glass and slide down. You cry. I see your tears. I don't want you to help me. I don't need any help. The auroras are fading. I am fading. Fading away. Into nothingness. As if I have never existed.

I smile at you. I hope you can see my smile. I cry. But I don't bother to hide it. I touch your face on the glass. It is cold and hard. I think of how ironic it is. We are at such proximity to each other. Yet we are so far apart. You shake your head and plead once more.

But it is not meant to be.

The fumes and gasses overwhelm me. And I finally let go. The car disappears from my sight. The trees disappear. The cliff disappears. You are the last to go. Your image gets smaller and smaller. You melt away into infinity. I whisper goodbye to you. The aurora borealis cradles me in its colours and brings me to my paradise. Forever.

_-fin-_


End file.
